Successors
by Lovingly Insane
Summary: Mello always lets his emotions get in the way. How far will he go in a fit of jealousy?


Ten-year-old Mello glared down at the child under the table. He was perched upon the counter, nibbling subconsciously on a long, dark bar of chocolate. The room was very close to silent, leaving just the soft _click_ of the puzzle pieces that the small boy under the table snapped into place. Mello, hate bubbling up from under his skin, glanced around the kitchen, letting his fingers clasp around a long, dull steak knife. He hopped off said counter and crawled under the table, plopping down in front of the white-haired boy.

Near never looked up. He just continued to snap the all-white pieces into the all-white puzzle, pardoning the large scripted 'L' in the corner. Mello scowled, angered by the eight-year-old boy's uncaring manner. He'd never liked Near; he was emotionless, cold, and worst of all, _smarter that him._

"Hello, Near," Mello said, glaring down.

"Hello, Mello," Near replied, still looking down.

"What are you doing?"

Near paused momentarily, as if going through Mello's possible illnesses, and murmured, "I believe you already know the answer to that." Mello groaned, thrusting a palm to his forehead. What kind of eight-year-old _answers_ like that?

"Near?"

"Yes, Mello?"

Frustrated at the lack of eye contact, Mello grabbed the boy's chin and thrust it up. He was shocked by the intensity of the grey eyes that were so very emotionless. With a grumble, he leaned in close. "I don't like you."

"Why is that?"

Leave it to Near to ask the one question Mello really didn't want to answer. Mello didn't like Near because he somehow always topped him, he always came in first. He was always the favorite. He would probably end up being L's true successor, and that deeply displeased Mello. "You know why, don't you?" Mello hissed, eyes narrowing.

"I do," Near replied, not fazed by his hateful tone. "You always let your emotions get in the way. I believe we could be great friends, Mello. If only you could deal with your emotions logically." Near blinked up at him. Mello was _not _about to be told how to deal with his emotions by someone younger than himself!

"You're just a kid!" Mello roared.

"So are you."

Mello didn't reply. He flung his fist into the other's face, thrusting him to the floor. With rage and adrenaline pumping through his veins, through his fists, he started beating the other child senseless. Near didn't flinch, but allowed him to let out his anger. After about five minutes of being a punching bag, Near flicked his hands up and grabbed Mello's wrists before pinning him to the floor. _"Let go of me,"_ hissed Mello.

Near, a drop of blood dripping from his nose, blinked. "No."

Surprisingly, Mello smirked. "Fine. Don't." He picked up the discarded knife and slashed it across Near's hand. Near was actually shocked this time, his eyes widening as thick red blood filled the wound. Mello only sneered, cutting his white pajama shirt and part of his thin chest, tracing down his breastbone. Near scrambled back, sensing danger from the glinting stained blade.

Mello just kept cutting, cutting, cutting into the smooth, pale skin. He finally stopped, noticing that Near's white pajamas were beginning to dye themselves red. The white-haired boy curled himself into a little ball. He wasn't crying, just staring forward, as if not caring about the pain. Mello felt bad, now that his jealousy and anger had briefly subsided, that he had hurt the boy. He was panting and was still gripping the now sweaty and bloody blade. He stared at Near for a while, not uttering a word, until a tall figure appeared at the door.

"Mello?"

No.

No!

Mello's face flushed bright red. Of course, they only person he truly respected had to catch him doing this! L Lawliet stood in the doorway, his panda-eyes wide as they fell upon the bloody knife. He turned his gaze to the boy in the stained pajamas and slowly picked him up.

"Hello, L," Near whispered, his usually alert eyes sleepily closing. He was close to passing out from loss of blood, Mello guessed, gulping.

L held him carefully, turned his gaze to Mello, and uttered the words, "Come, Mello."

Mello, with a whimper, followed, fully aware that he'd be punished for his actions. L trudged slowly into a small office that Mello instantly recognized as Wammy's.

"Watari," L murmured, motioning at the bleeding child in his arms. Watari? Mello shook this off, remembering that he'd done something horrible.

"Oh, my," the old man sighed, taking the child.

….

Mello _was_ punished, being grounded for a month, though to him, it seemed like a petty punishment for such a crime. He still despised Near, but he'd _cut _him, for god's sake. The little boy was in the infirmary for a while, and one day, during his punishment, he dared to ask Wammy a question.

"Wammy…"

"Yes, Mello?"

"May I see Near?"

…..

Mello walked slowly into the miniscule room, seeing the small boy with bandages covering his body lying in the bed. He shifted uncomfortably under Near's steady gaze. "Hello, Near…"

Near blinked in response.

"I…." Mello was forcing these words out in the first place, and 'sorry' was a word he didn't exactly enjoy saying. "I _apologiz-…" _He groaned. "Oh, I'm _sorry!_" He thrust his head into his hands, sitting in a chair next to Near's bedside. "I didn't- I still dislike you, Near, but I didn't mean to hurt you so-"

"Mello."

"Y-yes?"

Near flicked a finger out, motioning Mello closer. He wrapped his bandaged arms around him, sighing. "It's alright." When he released the shocked blonde, he twirled a piece of white hair with his index finger. With a rare smirk, he whispered, "You always let your emotions get in the way."

L stood silently in the doorway, smiling as the children conversed, chatting and debating. His successors.


End file.
